


Nicknames are Fond Names

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: "Nicknames are fond names. We do not give them to people we dislike." - Edna FerberIn which Judith bestows upon Daryl his first ever nickname, and Beth finds the whole thing way too amusing for his tastes.Bethyl one-shot, prison era.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 56
Kudos: 119





	Nicknames are Fond Names

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you watch walking dead at the same time as your partner is watching letterkenny and you realize two things. 
> 
> 1\. you have a fondness for characters named daryl and  
> 2\. if anyone ever called daryl dixon 'darry' he would likely have an aneurysm. 
> 
> enjoy the fluff that takes place in a universe where the governor does not come and we are safe and happy with judith

Daryl Dixon has a lot of ‘never’s’ in his life. 

Never had frozen yogurt. 

Never had a pet pony. 

Never got nothing from Santa Claus.

Never relied on anyone for anything. 

Never had a nickname either. 

That’s cause Daryl’s a pretty damn simple name. Can’t really shorten it, can’t really make it into something fun or cutesy. He’s just... Daryl.

Course, he’s had insults tossed his way before. Boy, asshole, fuckup, waste of space, loser, ungrateful brat, freeloader, good for nothing mama’s boy, pansy, faggot, bitch. Those were the nicknames his father lovingly bestowed upon him, said with a spit or a sneer or a hit. They still burn in Daryl’s brain. Can hear them at night when he closes his eyes. 

And then there are the ones he got from the kids at school growing up. Trailer trash, redneck, hick, inbred idiot, moron, loser, white trash, hillbilly, poor piece of shit. They mocked him, they hated him, they called him those names until Daryl learned that the only way to get them to shut up was to lash out with his fists, until he might be an inbred hick, but a tough as hell inbred hick that no one should cross. 

And even Merle had his fair share of nicknames for Daryl. Darylina, primarily. Bitch boy. Pussy. Even though Daryl was just a little kid. Even though he was just a _kid._ The names still swarm around in his head. Man up. Don’t be a crybaby. Don’t be a little bitch. 

Nope. He’s never had a nickname before. 

Not until Judith Grimes, that is. 

“Dar-yl,” Beth encourages her, waving Judith’s little fists. “Can you say Dar-yl?” 

“Nah,” Daryl grumbles, around the string he’s got in his mouth with his bow in his lap. “Never gonna learn that.” 

“Why not?” Beth asks, smiling as Judith babbles nonsense. 

“Too hard,” he states. “Gotta be simple. Like Beth.” 

“No, babies learn words they hear the most,” Beth informs him. “That’s why she says hi and bye and daddy.” 

“She hear Daryl a lot?” he points out and Beth looks up at him, grinning. 

“All she ever hears. Where Daryl’s going today, what Daryl brought back for us, what Daryl is going to do, when Daryl is going to come see her, everything. I talk about you all the time with her,” she informs him with a little smile and Daryl grunts to hide the fact that he wants to blush. Beth Greene talking about him, now that’s a lot to comprehend. Even if it is just to Judith. 

“Better start talking about yourself then,” he tells her and she shrugs. 

“Nope. I like you better,” she says promptly with a tiny smile and he has no idea what the hell to say to that so he shuts up, working on restringing the bow. 

“No, no, no,” Judith says, frowning and Beth hands her another block, only for Judith to knock it out of her hands. “No!” 

“I know that’s your favorite word,” Beth says patiently, offering her a different block. “How about this block?” 

“No!” Judith goes through a few different blocks, all while insisting — “No!” 

“You gotta learn other words, lil asskicker,” Daryl mutters and Beth’s toes poke his side, hard. 

“Better quit before she learns that one, Daryl Dixon!” 

“Dar… Dar… Dar…” Judith says and Beth leaves off scolding Daryl to beam at the little girl. 

“Just like that! C’mon!” she encourages her and Daryl watches the little girl, on tether hooks despite himself. “Dar-yl, Dar-yl, Dar-yl!” 

“Darry!” Judith says proudly and both Daryl and Beth stop, blinking. 

“Did she say daddy?” Daryl asks Beth after a pause, squinting a little bit. 

“Maybe.” Beth frowns slightly. Judith calls everyone daddy or mama, she’s not really picky on who. Beth is mama, usually. But so is Carol, and even a few times it's Daryl, which earns big laughs. Rick is daddy, but so is Carl, Hershel, and once Glenn. It’s less a formal title and more a honorific; whoever Judith particularly wants at the moment gets to be called so. “Say it again, Jude. Say Daryl.” 

“Darry!” 

“Oh my gosh.” Beth looks up at Daryl, eyes flashing with delight and he wants to groan, because he knows exactly where this is going, but maybe if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it won’t be true. “Daryl, she gave you a nickname! Darry!” 

“No,” he says quickly, pointing a finger at her, “no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Darry.” Beth is grinning. “That is so sweet. I love it. Darry!” 

“I ain’t milk,” he tells her firmly and Beth is still watching him, grinning, kissing the top of Judith’s head. “And that ain’t my nickname.” 

“Darry,” Beth says to Judith, pointing at him. “That’s your uncle Darry. Can you say Darry?” 

“I’m gonna feed you to the walkers,” he warns Beth without any real bite and she just smiles at him, pretty and haloed by the low light in his room. 

* * *

His biggest fear is that Beth is going to spill his secret nickname to everyone at the prison. That he’s going to be teased and mocked like he had as a kid, ridiculed and abused like his dad and Merle. But no. Only Judith calls him Darry, and everyone just thinks that she’s mispronouncing Daddy so they don’t think much of it. Only Beth knows and she just smiles at him whenever Judith cries to go to Darry and then brings the little girl over to him.

She’s real nice for him, for about three minutes. 

And then she starts calling him Darry too. 

Not where anyone can hear her. Only when they’re alone together, with Judith, at first. But then a few other times around the prison. Once, when he comes down to help with fence duty and she calls him that to tease him about doing too much work around the prison. And then one night when she comes up to do guard duty, jokingly calling herself relief for him and the term slips out somewhere in the midst of the little back and forth they’ve got going. And then once when she’s tired and cranky after being up all night with Judith, she uses the name as a way to signify just how serious she is. 

It’s a stupid ass nickname. Darry. 

But he kinda likes it, when it comes from the mouths of a one Beth Greene and a one Judith Grimes. 

* * *

“Darry! Darry!” Judith yells, leaning so far out of Beth’s grip that it’s a small miracle she doesn’t drop her. 

“Cool your jets, wild child,” Beth tells the little girl, hurrying over to him. She practically dumps Judith into his waiting arms, because Judith has made a mad scramble for him. He grunts with the weight, nearly dropping the crossbow in a effort not to let Judith hurt herself on it. Beth catches the thing and slings it over her shoulder like a natural, smiling at him. 

“Miss me, huh?” he asks Judith, jostling her. He probably stinks to high heaven after three days out in the woods with not a drop of fresh water, but neither the baby or Beth ever seem to mind.

“How was Darry’s hunting trip, huh?” Beth asks, tickling Judith but looking at him. He frowns at her. 

“You calling me that in front of her?” he demands and Beth grins. “She ain’t never gonna learn my real name.”

“Aw, your uncle Darry is crabby,” she tells her sympathetically and he growls. 

“Only cause you’re making me.” 

“Give Darry a kiss,” Beth orders the little girl. “Maybe that will cheer big ol’ grumpy uncle Darry up!” 

“I’m gonna get you back,” he warns Beth, as Judith coos and accidentally smacks him in the face with her hands. “I’m gonna give you an embarrassing ass nickname too.”

“Oh, like what?” Beth raises an eyebrow. “How you gonna give Beth a nickname? Maggie’s been trying her whole life, good luck Darry.” 

She’s got a point. If Daryl is hard to shorten, Beth is downright impossible. Could add the ‘Y’ to it like Maggie sometimes does, but Bethy ain’t annoying. It’s just… Kinda cute. So Daryl scowls at her and has no other retort back to her as Beth grins and whispers to Judith, talking about what animals he got for them, what kind of food they’ll make with it, and all the other things that Darry does around the prison. 

He hates that nickname, but he likes the way Beth talks about him when she uses it. 

* * *

“Beth,” he tells Judith, helping her reach the stuffed animal she wants so badly. “Say Beth.” 

“What are you trying to get her to learn?” Carl asks, sitting down beside him.

“Beth,” Daryl grunts, feeling that’s at least a little bit obvious. 

“Why?” Carl asks curiously and Daryl thinks about how the only person he doesn’t want more than Carl knowing his new nickname would be Glenn. Glenn, because he’d never let him live it down, and Carl because the second Carl knows, the whole prison is going to know. And Daryl really, really doesn’t want Rick to look him dead in the eye and call him ‘Darry’ with the utmost seriousness. 

“Cause she spends more time with the kid than any of us.” Daryl mumbles. “Only right that she knows who takes care of her.” 

“That's really nice,” Carl remarks and Daryl wants to sigh cause yeah no shit he’s nice, everyone just sees to think that being nice means always having sunshine and rainbows coming out your ass and always minding your manners. As far as Daryl is concerned, he can be nice and an asshole all at the same time. 

“Beth,” he tells Judith again, “say Beth.” 

“No,” Judith replies and Daryl sighs. She’s a real stubborn brat, just like someone else Daryl knows. 

“Yes,” Carl tells her firmly. “Judith, say Beth.” 

“Ball,” Judith says instead, pointing at the object of her desire. That’s another one of her favorite words and so Daryl rolls the thing towards her. 

“Close enough,” Carl says with a laugh and Daryl frowns slightly.

Not close, not by far. 

* * *

“Darry,” Beth says clearly and he glances at her over the heads of everyone gathered. Frowning, he reaches over and wraps a hand around her mouth to shut up her and then drags her away from the rest of the group, just a bit roughly. Because he doesn’t mind, not really, when she calls him that in private. But why’s she out here calling him that in front of everyone? 

“What?” he demands, when they’ve found a quiet corner with no one else in it. Beth glares at him over his clasped hand and once he feels completely confident no one else can hear her, removes it slowly. 

“I should have bit you,” she states maliciously and he finds himself kinda glad she hasn’t. 

“Told you not to call me that,” he warns her and Beth smacks his chest with an open palm. 

“I told you to come back,” she hisses and it’s only then that Daryl realizes that she's almost shaking and tears threaten in her eyes. 

“I did come back,” he states a bit stupidly and Beth hits him again. 

“Two days late!” the words come out with violent force and Beth gives him another little shove and a gasp at the same time, and Daryl catches her wrist to stop her from doing it again, thinking of his father, but then Beth glares up at him. Tears sparkling in her big blue eyes and a flat line of a mouth, still trembling from head to toe, defiant as she gives him a cold look even while tears leak out. 

He can’t find the words for her. He can’t even think of them, instead just staring at her in astonishment. Is this for him? Because he’s two days late from a run, because shit’s getting harder to find and then when he’d found a store not turned over, he’d killed all the walkers so that he could get new things for Judith? Does she care? Is this all for him? 

“Sorry,” he tells her, a little bit stunned, his grip on her wrist loosening but not letting go, his fingers drifting against her palm. She just keeps staring at him, like she wants to say more. Instead she just exhales a shaky breath and then turns on her heel, striding away with her blonde ponytail swinging. 

He wishes she would stop calling him Darry. It feels too intimate. 

* * *

“Bee,” Judith tells him seriously and Daryl sighs, lifting the little girl above him, blowing a raspberry on her stomach.

“Beth,” he retorts, without any real conviction. “Beth.” 

“Bee!” she cries in delight and so he sets her on his lap and hands her the stuffed bee he’d gotten on the last run, the run that he’d been late coming back, and that had made Beth so mad at him. She hasn’t talked to him since the moment in the hallway, where he’d wondered if she was crying over him and hadn’t been able to say a word. 

“Beth,” he tells her for the millionth time. “Beth.” 

“Whatcha need from Beth?” Carol asks, pausing in walking by with the laundry on her hip. 

“Nothing,” Daryl mutters. 

“She got you on babysitting duties?” Carol looks at Judith waving her bee. Daryl shrugs; usually whenever he takes Judith, Beth hangs around to tease him and joke with him, playing with Judith, generally spending time together. But it wasn’t even Beth who dropped her off tonight; it’d been Carl with a confused expression but Daryl didn’t want to clarify to him so he’d taken Judith and laid right back down. 

“Bee,” Judith states to Carol, who grins at her. 

“Trying to teach her to say Beth,” Daryl mutters, because Carol always knows the things that are going on in Daryl’s head anyways, so might as well fess up. 

“Oh, that’s simple,” Carol tells him. “You just say it a bunch. She’s picking things up quick, she’ll get it. But that means you’re going to have actually talk to her,” she teases.

Yeah, that’s how Beth got Darry to stick. But he doesn’t know how to talk about Beth, let alone more than just saying her name over and over and over to Judith. Carol leaves with a knowing smile and Daryl is left to stare at Judith as she waves the bee and slobbers on it. 

“Beth,” he says to the little girl, feeling like an idiot. “The pretty blonde who watches you is Beth. And Beth is really nice. Beth is…. Good. Beth can sing. Beth can always calm you down. Beth never fails to tell me when I’m being an ass. Beth always listens to everyone and Beth takes care of them. Beth is strong. Beth is tougher than she looks and Beth is way smarter than me. Girls like Beth used to scare the shit out of me. Don’t think a girl like Beth would even give me the time of day. Beth Greene is…” 

But there are no words for her. So he just wants Judith to say Beth so he can stop thinking about Beth Greene. 

* * *

“Beth,” he calls, when he sees her down in the fields. Everyone else is drifting up to the prison to eat, leaving her alone. He wants to talk to her. He wants to make things right. He wants to fix whatever the hell he broke, however unknowingly, no matter what it takes. Beth turns and regards him cooly. 

“Daryl.” 

It’s a low blow. She knows it. He knows it. They face off, regarding each other with stubbornness that is unmatched by anyone else. 

“Sorry,” he mutters and Beth crosses her arms, chin up in a challenge. 

“For what?” 

Oh, she won’t make it easy. “For whatever the hell made you so damn mad at me.” 

“For being a jackass?” she asks him sharply and he growls. “For wanting you back safe, for worrying over you, for thinking that you weren’t coming back this time, and then when you do, not even looking at me?” 

Daryl doesn’t remember any of that. He just remembers getting back, handing stuff off, wanting a shower and a long ass nap, but he was sure he’d talked to Beth. Did something to tell her he was back, or at least caught her eye. But if he didn’t, if he was late getting back and didn’t try to make sure Beth knew… Well, he’d be mad if she was in his place. 

“Fuck,” he says quietly and then apologizes again, but means it. “Sorry.” 

“And then you get mad at me for calling you Darry,” she retorts and he winces. “And I don’t understand why you hate it that much! I think it’s cute. And sweet. And it’s nice that Judith knows your name. And I like it.” 

“I like it too,” he mutters, “just didn’t want everything knowing it. It’s just for us.” 

He doesn’t realize how it sounds until the words are already out, out there where he cannot take them back. And he just waits, cringing, for Beth to say something or anything. But she doesn't. She just stares at him, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, like she's curious and can't quite believe what she's seeing or hearing. 

"Okay," she says, finally, softly. Like that somehow settles it. Daryl blinks, not sure if this means it's an end to their fight or her finally getting too sick of his shit or what. Then Beth smiles, the softest and sweetest smile she usually only wears when Judith is being extra cute, and stretches up onto her tippy toes, one hand resting on his shoulder as she brushes the lightest of kisses along his cheekbone. He has no time to react, only to stare, as she blushes and says quietly, "goodnight then, Darry." 

He watches her leave, storms beneath his skin and thundering in his heart. 

* * *

"Bee-Bee!" Judith cries in delight and Beth grins at her while Daryl sighs. No matter what, she seems bound and determined not to say Beth. 

"Are you trying to say baby?" Beth asks her, giving her a kiss. "You're a baby." 

"Bee-Bee!" Judith repeats and Beth laughs and Daryl rolls his eyes. 

He's been well and truly forgiven. Beth has resumed hanging out with him whenever either of them have Judith, so tonight they're sitting side by side, Beth with a book open on her lap and Daryl with a mountain of toys, handing them to Judith one by one until he alights on the object of her desire. It's a quiet night. 

Daryl doesn't mind. 

"This little Darry went on a run, this little Darry came home," Beth starts, wiggling Judith's toes to make her squeal. "This little Darry ate squirrel, and this little Darry had possum. And this little Darry cried wee-wee-wee all the way home!" 

"Urgh." Daryl groans. Beth does that a lot lately, replacing his name in silly little nursery rhymes and telling them to Judith. 

"Darry?" Judith asks in a quizzical tone and Beth points to Daryl. 

"Right there, sweetheart." 

"Bee-Bee?" she asks in the same tone and Beth's eyebrows furrow.

"Baby?" Beth offers her a raggedy doll. Judith ignores her and looks at Beth insistently, face all scrunched up. And then, finally, declares, 

"Beth!" 

Silence stretches for a few long moments, as Beth and Daryl stare at Judith in shock. Then slowly, Daryl turns to look at Beth, seeing the emotions that run over her face. And then she turns to look at Daryl, wide eyed and a shaky little smile on her face. Then with a cry of happiness, she launches herself into a tight hug with him. 

He holds her, rocking back and forth slightly, feeling the warmth of her body. She's got surprising strength in her, wiry defined muscles in her arms and back. Probably from hefting Judith around all day. He finds he likes it, wants more of it. The smell of her hair. The little hitches from her chest. The way she smiles at him so brightly when she pulls back. 

"Darry!" Judith tells them happily. "Bee-Bee." 

"Oh, we're Darry and Bee-Bee." Beth laughs, like it's the best thing she's ever heard. "Darry and Bee-Bee!" 

* * *

"And you ate it?" Beth asks him in disbelief and he shrugs, almost smiling. "Couldn't you tell that it tasted funny?" 

"Like I knew what the hell one of those things tasted like," he grumbles and Beth laughs. 

"Good lord Darry. It was a wax pomegranate! How could you not tell?" she demands, grinning. 

"Didn't know," he mutters and Beth gently strokes Judith's hair back as the little girl sleeps.

It's damn cold out. That's how they wind up here, snuggled under blankets while winter blows around them. Beth had brought Judith here, demanding stories and company, and curled up next to him for his warmth. 

"I'll find you a real one sometime," she promises him quietly. "They're annoying to peel. Three times the work for not that much of a reward, but I think you'd like them." 

"Yeah?" he raises an eyebrow. "Why's that?" 

"Cause you like sweet things, Darry," she mutters and he holds real still, not wanting to move as she nudges her head onto his shoulder and rests it there. He doesn't even move when she mutters, "thanks." 

"For what?" he questions her softly and she gives a little hum, the noise reverberating in his chest. 

"Teaching her to say my name," Beth informs him, like it's obvious. "I know you were working on it with her, trying to get her to say it. So thank you."

"Well..." he's not sure what else to say beyond, "you're welcome." 

"You're nice, Darry," Beth murmurs, shutting her eyes. "You're always so nice to me and Jude." 

"Yeah, don't tell anyone I'm secretly a big softy," he grumbles and Beth's lips turn upward. 

"Won't tell them you let me call you Darry either," she retorts sweetly and he heaves a slightly over dramatic sigh. "You can call me Bee-Bee, if you want, to get back at me." 

"Nah." it sounds way too much like 'baby' for Daryl's comfort level. And if someone misheard, misunderstood? Daryl likes being in one piece. He doesn't want to risk Maggie's wrath. "Beth's fine." 

"I wouldn't mind," she says, voice soft now. Her fingers trace circles on Judith's back, her eyes diverted from Daryl's. "You could have a nickname for me and I wouldn't mind." 

"What kind of nickname?" he asks, feeling like he has to keep talking or this silence is going to choke him. 

"Mhmm." Beth hums. "Any kind. Anything that makes you think of me." 

"And Darry reminds you of me?" he questions her, a little bit annoyed and Beth chuckles. 

"Yeah. Reminds me of how Judith sees you. Big, strong, soft uncle Darry. Not tough as nails Daryl. It's nice. Nice to think of you like that." she says it so tenderly, Daryl forgets that he is big and scary. He finds himself able to be the gentle man that Judith and Beth believe him to be. He wants to be worthy of that. 

"Dunno what to call you," he mutters, cheeks flaming. He thinks of Beth Greene in a lot of ways, and several of them he'd prefer she never, ever know about. 

"You call me girl," she reminds him, "or Greene or kiddo, if you're trying to be a jerk about it." 

"What'd you prefer then?" he asks her. If she wants a nickname so badly, she'll have to give herself one. He's got no idea what to do with a girl like her. "Ain't gonna call you doodlebug or whatever your daddy does." 

"That's fine." Beth snuggles in closer. "And you better not call me asskicker either, Darry." 

"Call you an annoying little brat," he retorts and Beth huffs out air. "Or... Birdy." 

"Birdy?" Beth pulls back, careful not to jostle Judith but enough to look at him. He averts his eyes from hers, feeling all sorts of foolish for trying to be the kind of guy who gives her cutesy nicknames. 

"Yeah, cause you... Sing," he mutters, picking the threads on the blanket. "Like a songbird. And cause it kinda sounds like Bethy. I dunno."

"I love it," she tells him, eyes twinkling. "Birdy and Darry. We sound like an old timey folk band." 

"Something like that." he won't ever admit it, but he's pleased she likes it so much. 

"And you can even call me that where others can hear you," she teases and he shakes his head. Beth's brow furrows slightly as she looks at him. "Why not?" 

"Cause..." he struggles over the words, trying to get them out nicely and then thinking fuck it and throwing caution to the wind. "Cause then they'd all know." 

"Know what, Darry?" she asks sweetly and he's watching her, watching as she moves in closer to him, blue eyes sparkling and Judith clasped to her chest and she has to know. She has to. And he doesn't stop her, watching in mute terror and complete want as she approaches him and he doesn't close his eyes, needing to watch every second of this. 

The gentle press of her lips on his. The touch of her cold nose against his cheek. The whisper of her hair over the fabric of her shirt, the rustles of blankets around her as she moves in close to him, pressing the kiss deeper until he feels the blackness coming for him, having been holding his breath. 

"No one has to know," she whispers when she pulls away, going back to rest her head on his shoulder like she had before, as if she hasn't plunged him into a mess of emotions and thoughts. "I can just be Birdy and you can just be Darry." 

* * *

"Hey, Birdy," Daryl mutters, catching Beth's hand. She follows him into the dark corner without hesitation, smiling the whole way. 

"Hi, Darry," she says sweetly and he growls at the nickname out of nothing but habit, bending down to kiss her. 

He never should've called Beth Birdy. If the goal of the nickname is to be whatever she reminds him of, he should be calling her heroin or crack or something otherwise dangerous and addicting. Because that's what Beth is, she's some sort of drug and he is woefully unprepared to do anything but indulge himself, no matter how many times he thinks it might be better to stop. 

Beth doesn't stop. Beth kisses him with everything she's got and it leaves him breathless. He started by only kissing her once, or twice. Just to see if that lightning in a bottle feeling was all a fluke. Then it became apparent it wasn't, so he'd taken to only kissing her once a day, but then that wasn't enough to staunch his need, so then he'd moved to kissing her in the shadows every chance that he got.

And now, after a three day run without her, he is a desperate man. 

That's why he's a little less careful than usual. That's why he pushes her up against a wall and pads the back of her head with his hand, tangling his dirty fingers in her pretty blonde hair, just to reassure himself that she is real and alive and wants him back. She presses up against him, just as hungry for him as he is for her. 

Greedy girl. Steals kisses like she gives out smiles, shameless and abundant. He's never been experienced in kissing, never cared to get any practice, but Beth... She makes a man want to learn. She makes a man want to do real stupid shit, the stupidest kind of shit. Like pulling her close, breathing her in, and saying some sappy, stupid bullshit. 

_I love you._

"Missed you," she mutters in his mouth and he can't help but gasp a little, the way she moves. 

"Everybody okay?" he asks in return. 

"I'm fine, Jude's fine, so are all the rest," she ticks off quickly and he can't help but snort. When did that become to the order of his universe, huh? When did that become what mattered most, in that order? And then he kisses her again, kisses her until he feels like he’s going to fly off the earth if he’s not holding tightly to her. And Beth tangles her hands in his hair and pulls him closer and he thinks that there’s nothing in this world like coming home to someone who loves you. 

* * *

“She gonna be okay?” Daryl demands of Hershel, carefully stroking Beth’s hair back with hands that are shaking. 

“Daryl, you shouldn’t be in here, you’re not sick and you could be exposed,” Michonne reminds him from the hallway, shirt pulled up over her nose. Daryl shoots her an expression so deadly, it might as well burn straight through her. 

“He can stay. I’ll need the help,” Hershel tells Michonne gently. “Bring anyone else who’s sick right here, and I can treat them. Everyone else who isn’t exposed needs to stay out.” 

“Alright.” Michonne agrees, albeit reluctantly, and departs. Hershel glances at him, as Daryl holds tightly to Beth’s hands and watches the short, sharp breaths she takes. 

“She gonna be okay?” Daryl repeats, struggling to keep the panic and fear out of his voice. Hershel sighs, resting one large palm on Beth’s forehead for a brief moment. 

“We’ll need to cool her down,” he remarks finally. “I want to keep the fever low. And I’ll get an IV set for her, so that she doesn’t have to worry about fluids. Can you help me with the others?” 

“Nah,” Daryl says, knowing how selfish and awful he’s being. But how can he not? This is Beth. “Gonna stay with her.” 

“Alright.” to his surprise, Hershel doesn’t fight him on it, just nods and walks away. Daryl feels like shit; after all, what claim does he have to her? How can it surpass that of her father? What sort of jackass does that make him, a dirty redneck idiot pretending to be good enough for a girl like her?

Daryl sits by her beside, day in and day out. Sleeps there too, his fingers always tangled up with hers. Desperate for her to squeeze back, desperate for her to wake up. Desperate to hear that soft voice talking to him, calling out his name, even if she calls him Darry. He just needs her to wake up. He just needs her to _wake up._

He does help out Hershel. Course he does. People are sick, they need the help, and Daryl still feels fine. Well, as fine as he can feel when Beth is sick and unconscious, barely breathing. The others, they’ll go get meds. And Daryl will hang IV bags and learn how to insert one, and mop brows and help change sheets and all the while, he goes back again and again to Beth, to hold her hand and beg her to stay here with him. 

He can’t even feel relief when they get back with the meds and he crushes them up for Beth. He’s been in such a state of terror for so long that he isn’t sure he remembers how to feel anything else. Just gives Beth the meds, then collapses down by her side to sit and wait.

“Darry…” Beth groans and his head snaps up, looking at her in fear. But she’s looking back at him, for the first time in a week, eyes hazy from her fever but not cloudy like a walker, and he does the first thing he can think of.

He grabs her in his arms and kisses her, until he remembers that she hasn’t been breathing well, and forces himself to pull back and stare at her. But Beth doesn’t look mad; she just regards him with a smile, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek that he only now realizes is wet with tears. 

“Hey Birdy,” he says quietly and she gives a weak sort of chuckle. 

“Hey Darry. Where you been?” 

“Right here,” he tells her, rocking her back and forth and noticing that Hershel is watching them with a smile. “Been right here, Birdy, the whole time.” 

“I know.” she squeezes his hand. “I know, Darry, I know.” 

* * *

“Darry!” Judith cries, when he arrives back from a run, cutting the engine on his bike. Beth is just barely holding her in check, waiting for all the cars to stop moving. When they do, Beth lets her run loose. Judith takes off, heading straight for Daryl, shrieking with glee. “Darry! Darry! Darry!” 

“Yeah,” he grunts, catching her and swinging her high above his head to hear her wild peal of laughter. “I heard you the first time.” 

“Wait, is she saying Darry?” Glenn asks curiously, pausing. 

“Darry.” Judith holds Daryl’s face. 

“Yeah, she is,” Daryl says, watching as Beth walks over with a smile. 

He’s sick of hiding. He’s sick of pretending that the stupid nickname isn’t the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him, that being called Darry hasn’t made his life infinitely better. So he reaches for Beth, pulls her in close, and bends down to kiss her, ignoring Glenn’s choking breath and Maggie’s sharp inhale because none of that matters, not when Beth is smiling against his kisses, lovely and bright. 

“What was that for, Darry?” she asks, sweet and innocent with a twinkle in her eyes that’s anything but and behind him still, everyone seems flabbergasted as to just what the hell is going on. Let them be confused. Daryl couldn’t give a single fuck. He’s got Judith, he’s got Beth, and he’s Darry. 

“C’mon.” he kisses her again, because he can, and then puts Judith on one hip and tucks Beth under his other arm and strides off, Beth humming happily beside him and Judith babbling. 

Every other word is Darry and Bee-Bee. 

**Author's Note:**

> in conclusion
> 
> i need someone to draw daryl dixon as daryl from letterkenny and i will pay cash money for it 
> 
> reviews are precious and treasured my friends each is a shiny gem i hoard in my writer's chest of happiness


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